A Second Chance
by TaurianHeroine
Summary: When Jason Todd accidentally manages to save a strangely familiar man from certain doom at the hands of a thug, events transpire that lead him to the opportunity of a lifetime: to go back in time, to change his decisions, to be a better Robin and son, to have the family he longs for, and most importantly, to change his fate. Will he land safely if he leaps, or will he fall short?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I don't own Batman, nor Jason Todd (if I did, poor Jay wouldn't have died - who cares if there was a vote back in the 80s? That was just cold, really cold...)**

*******_Batman: Under the Red Hood_ is the backstory and basis for Jason Todd in this story***

* * *

Chapter 1

"I don't know what clouds your judgment worse – your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality."

– Jason Todd, _Batman: Under the Red Hood_

For all that made him a monster in the eyes of heroes, for all that made him who he was, for his stubbornness and his temper, there was - at the least - one thing that could be admired about Jason Todd: his strength. His strength to keep fighting, to keep holding on when life had shattered into a million pieces, his strength to never give up. The world could be destroyed tomorrow, but Jason Todd would still keep fighting. He didn't give up. Despite everything that had happened, he was determined, capable, and more than willing to take on the costs.

That didn't mean he never fell short – he fell short many times, even in his own eyes though most of his acquaintances considered him too arrogant to acknowledge flaws within himself. Jason had trained himself to display only what he wanted to, to proudly stride before the world as a brutal, heartless angel of death, when on the inside he was a heartbroken teenager longing for love and acceptance. Would he ever admit to such a thing? Hell no. He had too much pride for that, and he had learned his lesson from his encounter with Batman that night in the apartment with Joker.

Jason was, by appearances, a merciless vigilante. It was how he needed to, and wanted to, be seen if he was to make an impact on Gotham. The city had festered in its filth for too long. Batman could only do so much. If he were willing to take the next step, to do what needed to be done, then perhaps it wouldn't still be the Hell it was. But no, the dirty work of eliminating the problem had fallen on Jason.

Tonight's first problem was in the form of a drug dealer, selling his poison to innocent children. Nothing made Jason Todd angrier than to see someone harming a child. So, after night had fallen, he pulled on his uniform, covered his face with the crimson mask, strapped on his knives and guns, and left to make a difference in Gotham's criminal underworld.

He found the dealer, a man of about forty years with scraggly hair and sunken eyes, smoking on the street corner, leaning against the edge of a crumbling building. He took a deep puff, soaring so high in the clouds that he didn't notice the dark figure approaching from the shadows of an adjacent alleyway. Narrowing his eyes beneath the mask, the Red Hood pulled out and unsheathed a favorite knife from his ever-growing collection.

He had been watching this man all day, counting the number of sells he made, making a mental note of what number of sells were to misguided children and to women. Once, the man sold to a woman who was clearly pregnant. That had sparked an all new fire in Jason's already-lit heart. To do that… was just sick.

His reasons for keeping an eye on the number of women being drawn in to the drugs, was more personal. His mother, though adoptive, had died of a drug-overdose and it had always weighed heavy on his heart. To see other women, possibly mothers, putting themselves and their families in the same situation struck a chord deep within Jason.

This man had chosen to commit his sins in Jason's territory, and now he would have to answer for them to the Red Hood himself.

Keeping his knife hidden, slipped partially up the sleeve of his jacket, he plucked the cigarette from the man's hand and dropped it to the ground, making sure to stomp it hard with his booted foot. The drug-addict lifted himself off the wall, ready for a fight, too drugged to realize just who he was going up against.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jason commented, as the man made a fist. "You might get something worse in return. Actually, scratch that – you _will_ get something worse in return."

The man's dazed eyes narrowed. "Who do you think… you are?" The man was fumbling to find the right words in a brain too shocked to give him what he needed.

"You've had one too many whiffs," Jason said, shrugging, then taking the man by surprise and grabbing his arm, twisting it so that the man's back was to him and that he was on his knees, shaking in pain as his bones threatened to break, Jason holding the knife against his throat. "You want to know who I am? I'll tell you – I'm Red Hood and you're in _my _territory. And honestly, I really don't like you. Do you want to find out what I do to people I don't like, especially when they're as disgusting as you?" _Seriously, when's the last time this guy's had a shower?_ Jason wondered.

The man trembled when Jason mention the name 'Red Hood'. Even in his drug-induced state, he still remembered the name of the 'crime-lord' that everyone was so afraid of.

"Red… Hood? Listen, man… I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"Didn't know _what_? That you were selling to kids? That you were selling to a pregnant woman? That you're a bastard that I'm so close to eliminating, that you better start saying your prayers?"

The man whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"The word 'sorry', doesn't mean anything to me," Jason retorted.

"Please! I… I got a wife! And kids! Three of them!" The man was crying now. _What a wimp._

"You do realize that what you just said, is pretty much the biggest lie in the book, right?" Jason purposely scoffed.

"No, no, I got a picture! I can prove it to you! It's… it's in my wallet!"

Jason snorted. "Do you really want to insult my intelligence again?" He pressed the knife a little deeper.

"No… please, let me go. I won't do it again! I'll… I'll leave! I won't come back! I promise!"

"I don't believe you. Too bad, so sad."

"Please! I'll do anything! Just don't hurt me!"

The man was sobbing now.

"Sorry, but the bank just called and it looks like I'm all out of fucks to give."

The man started crying even more. Jason, however, was feeling merciful tonight. Had he drunk too much, had someone slipped something into his water at his apartment? He didn't know, didn't really care, but was satisfied with the look on the man's face. He'd play nice tonight, especially since he didn't want any attention from the Bat who, by now, had probably heard of Gotham's latest pyscho – who was currently holed up not too far from Jason's place. Instead of finishing the job, he lifted away his knife before fully twisting the man's arm till a crack split the night before sending his fist into the back of his head. The man fell to the ground, unconscious.

Replacing his knife in its original place, he removed the drugs and drug money from the man's body before standing. He didn't bother to move the man – like he said, the guy was a bastard, and he didn't care if somebody found him. It would just serve to freak the druggie out even more.

The thought of that made Jason's lips turn up, minimally but still a small smile. It didn't matter how old he was, he would always love to pull stunts.

* * *

**Wow, I hope I got Jason right! If I didn't, I'm welcome to comments and suggestions. It is, after all, my first time writing about him and, even if I do love his character more than any other, I could always screw-up. I do hope you enjoyed it, because I had enjoyed writing it. By the way, I hope the whole "call from the bank, blah blah blah" part was original – if it was not, my sincerest apologies. I thought it was original and funny, and typical of a sarcastic comment Jason would make. If you like this chapter and the idea expressed in the summary, press that adorable little review button. The more reviews, the faster an update. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Who we are,

Isn't how we live, we are more than our bodies.

If I fall, I will rise back up and relive my glory."

-_In the End_ by Black Veil Brides

Jason maneuvered along the city rooftops with ease, expertly leaping and grappling between the buildings. There was a certain freedom that came with running along the tops of buildings. It was a rush, heady and exhilarating. He remembered the first time he had run along Gotham's rooftops, the unfamiliar and unbiased feeling of liberation that had quickly erased any anxieties that had existed beforehand of being so high in the sky with nothing but trust and a grappling hook to keep him from falling to a certain doom.

Though the strength and feelings it brought had faded somewhat over the years, it still made Jason feel alive – something he hardly felt nowadays. Of course, he lived and breathed, but there was a difference in being alive, and _feeling_ alive. To feel alive was wondrous. It was like the weight on his shoulders had been taken away and the memories that often hounded him had disappeared. Alas, it was fleeting. Too soon, he would have to return to the streets, where he couldn't disappear into the motions of running and jumping and forget all about his problems. But the night was drawing to an end, and like the night, all good things must end, too.

Jason turned towards the ratty apartment he currently resided in, not daring to call it 'home'. That was too nice a word for such a decrepit place. He had stayed out longer than usual that night, despite doing nothing more than taking care of a few criminals and spending the rest of his time going from rooftop to rooftop, stopping every now and again to check his surroundings. He was almost surprised to see a glow at the edge of his vision from where the sun was rising. Had he really gotten that lost in the motions that had brought up so many good memories? He had left his apartment later than usual, due to an inconvenience with the plumbing earlier that day, but had expected to be back a lot sooner.

Oh, well. It wasn't as if he something to do anyways. He would probably end up sleeping the majority of the day away.

As his feet hit the roof of an abandoned building that proudly proclaimed 'Gotham Realtors' and a mural of graffiti, a shout caught his attention. He halted, hand automatically reaching for a weapon. Again, someone nearby shouted out and this time, Jason recognized it as a call for help. Jason turned on the heel of his combat boots and started off in the direction from which the call originated.

"Help!" the victim yelled, and Jason picked up his speed. _This guy's pretty loud… why hasn't his assaulter shut him up?_ Once again, someone yelled for 'help', but this time it was cut short. Thankfully, the cry had been from close by, probably the next alleyway. Jason leapt to the roof that towered over the crime-scene, quiet as a mouse.

He chose not to barge in on whatever this confrontation was, instead going for stealth and silently stepping to the roof's edge, kneeling down, a gun in his hand. What he saw, surprised him.

It was an old man – not just old, but ancient, actually – standing above a muscular man about Dick's age. _How the hell does _that_ happen?_ Jason wondered. It didn't matter, he reminded himself. What mattered was saving the victim – what? Just because he wasn't a saint, it didn't mean that he was a bad guy. Not the best, but not the worst, either.

Jason was even more surprised to find that the old man held no weapon, but pleased at the same time. That made things a hell of a lot easier. Carefully, Jason made his way to the ground so silent that, if he was Robin, Batman would have been proud. Well, he wasn't sure Batman was ever proud – at least, of him.

Jason didn't bother to creep up behind the senior citizen, instead choosing to play it 'macho' and come in from the side, boldly striding forward. A few steps away from the man, he clapped his hands sarcastically.

"Well, isn't this a riot?" he said in a light, joking voice tinted with a sharp edge of warning. He looked to the muscular man, recognizing him as a convict that should still be in Blackgate. "It must be pretty humiliating to be seen hiding from some old geezer in his eighties."

At this, the elderly man scoffed and the criminal glared at Jason. That was when the Red Hood saw something that wasn't visible from above. Barely visible beneath the hem of the man's pants, were a pair of shackles that were brought to his attention by the glint of a streetlamp. When he glanced at the man's face, a sharp pang of familiarity hit his stomach. He knew this man from somewhere, but that was the question: where? Where did he know him from? It didn't matter at the moment, though. The silent, pleading look in the man's eyes told him what he needed to know.

This was a set-up.

"Listen, old guy, why don't you go home? I'll take care of him from here." Red Hood smirked.

"What?!" The criminal yelled. "What're you talking about?! You're supposed to help me!"

Jason laughed. "There's only one help for scum like you: a bottle of bleach."

This infuriated the criminal. "What's your problem?! Can't you see I'm in danger here? This guy's trying to kill me?"

"That's the best you've got?" The Red Hood shook his head. "What is it with criminals these days? It's like you're getting dumber and dumber… then again, you probably weren't that smart to begin with."

The guy looked dumbfounded for a moment, and Jason sighed in mock exasperation.

"Do I have to explain _everything_? Listen, shit-face, next time you try to fool someone into thinking that you're in danger – do me a favor, and actually give the supposed 'bad guy' a freaking weapon."

He motioned towards the man's empty hands, hidden like his shackled feet from anyone who was looking from above. He didn't mention that you shouldn't give the prisoner a loaded gun – if the guy was stupid enough to do it, then that would save Jason some time.

The criminal was enraged now that his, badly hidden, plan was discovered. Stupidly, he lunged at Jason who easily sidestepped the tackle before grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt, using momentum to throw him backwards. The thug fell onto his back with a grunt. The old man was trying to shuffle away as the criminal got to his feet. Jason knocked him back to the ground with a swift kick in the face. Tired of playing games with the sun's rays starting to become visual through the smog above their heads, Jason pulled out his gun and placed his foot on the man's chest. He locked the gun, then aimed it at the man's face.

"You're working for someone," he stated. "Nobody comes after _me_ if they weren't. Now, we can make this easy and you can tell me the name of your boss, and you might escape, or we can make it hard. Which one?"

"Easy! Easy, I want to make it easy!" the criminal cried out fearfully. Jason rolled his eyes in his mask. All criminals were the same – they liked to act big and tough, but they were worse than whining children when they thought they were going to get hurt.

"Looks like you do have a few brain cells, then," the younger man commented, words laced with thick ribbons of sarcasm. "Alright, tell me then. Who's your boss?"

He had a vague idea of who would be after him, but wanted to be sure. He waited for the man to finish contemplating which was worse – a fate at Jason's hands, or whatever was in store for him when Jason sent him crawling back to his boss to tell him the news.

"Black Mask. It's Black Mask," the man admitted pitifully. "He's pissed about what you did to him. He's got this big reward for whoever brings him the Red Hood's head."

"You're supposed to be in Blackgate right now," Jason reminded him. "So how did it come to pass that you got free, only to come hunt me down?"

"When he was on trial, they put him in Blackgate for a while. The guards there… they don't pay us no mind…"

"And? A little faster, shift-face, my thumb's getting sore and it might just slip and shoot you."

"I'm going, I'm going!" the criminal pleaded. "Please! I'll tell you! Black Mask paid me off! He had a bunch of us fight each other and I always won, so he paid my bail and told me I'd be rich if I brought him you. But I ain't the only one! There's a bunch of other guys coming for you, too!"

"Don't I feel loved?" Jason remarked. He looked down at the man, then released his hold on the gun and put it in its place. "You're lucky. Normally, I'd take you out, but since you've been _so_ helpful, I'll do you a favor and let you live. Besides, once Black Mask finds out about this, he'll do the job for me."

The man sniveled as Jason removed his booted foot. Clumsily, he got up. He took another look at Red Hood before backing away several steps and running off into the night. Jason was used to people coming after him, but it was different when he no longer had Batman's protection. In Crime Alley, as Red Hood, he was alone and could only rely on himself, and himself alone, to defend against the so-called bounty hunters.

"Thank you, young man."

Jason turned, shocked to find that the old man had remained, watching the events transpire. The panic from before was gone, replaced by a look similar to one of someone talking to an old friend. _Doesn't this guy know who he's talking to?_ Jason made a mental note to rebuild his reputation, though he didn't remember its 'badass-ness' ever being ruined.

"Sure, whatever," he replied slowly. The man smiled.

"Not one for formalities, are you, Jason?" he asked. _That_ sent Jason reeling. How did this random guy, who was possibly crazy – he lived in Gotham, didn't he? – know who he was? His hand moved towards the handle of his gun-

"Now, there's no need for that," the man reprimanded gently. Jason, however, disagreed. This guy's creepiness-factor was off the charts. "I am an old friend."

"To be an old friend, I think we'd have to know each other," he retorted, hand never leaving his gun though he didn't raise it.

"We do," the man said, smiling warmly. "Well, I know _you_. We met when you were a small child. Don't you remember me, Jason?"

The Red Hood remembered the spark of familiarity he'd felt when he first saw the man's face, but couldn't place a name to his wizened features.

"Didn't you hear what just came out of my mouth?" he snapped.

"No need for anger, Jason," the man said again, still gentle. "I am only here to help."

"Not what it looked like a minute ago. I recall being the one helping you – not the other way around."

"True," the man laughed. "But I am here to help you. I am a guide, of sorts, sent from someone _very_ special to assist and advise you."

_Somebody's crazy._

"And no, Jason, I am not crazy."

Now, that was just plain-out freaky.

"Er…" Jason, for once in his life, did not have a comeback. Helplessly, his hand fell from where it had previously been holding the gun. "Okay, so if you're not crazy" – _which you are_ – "then what the hell are you supposed to be helping or advising me, or whatever, with?"

"Once again – I am not crazy," the man said, raising a grey eyebrow. "But I will answer your questions. First, let us get off these streets, shall we?"

Jason wanted to protest, but a voice in the back of his head had other plans in mind. Sighing, he nodded. "You already know my name, so what's it going to hurt?"

Half an hour later, Jason and the man were in his apartment. The man had suggested Jason wash up before they talked and the younger man had obeyed, albeit begrudgingly. He had no idea why in the world he would do as the man said, or why the man had any sway over his usual tactics. There was a strange power that the man seemed to hold. It wasn't evil, Jason could tell, but it was powerful. Mighty. Even… dare he even think it? _Holy_. Something seemed holy about the man. _Maybe he's a priest,_ Jason guessed, though he had never felt such a strong presence emanating from any other priest he'd met.

Then again, he hadn't meet very many, had he?

After showering and pulling on more comfortable clothes, Jason slipped a gun into the waistband of his pants and pulled his shirt down over it. The man may not have seemed evil, but Jason had been wrong before.

"Your home is… cluttered," the man commented as Jason stepped into the living-room area, where the stranger sat on his couch. "Not that there's anything wrong with that…"

"Sure," Jason said, in a disbelieving manor. Something told him that he was dealing with an Alfred-like type of person, which meant he couldn't stand the sight of clutter or trash.

"Come, sit and we'll talk," the man said, looking at Jason, who hadn't bothered to move from the doorway. When Jason still didn't move, the man smiled. "I promise you, Jason, that I mean no harm. I understand that you do not trust easily due to your past experiences, but I have never betrayed you."

_Yeah, 'cause you don't know me._

The man sighed. "Must you be so loud when you think? I could hear everything that passed through that overly-sarcastic mind of yours while you were showering."

"Creeper," Jason muttered.

His guest chose not to reply to that. "Jason, please, we don't have much time. You need to make your decision quickly, or else the chance will be gone forever."

"What decision?" Interest piqued, Jason finally sat down next to the man, though he made sure to keep his distance. His suspicion and distrust was clear on his face.

"The decision I am about to tell you of. Though, I assume you want to know my name before I go any further."

"Yeah, I would."

The man nodded. "Of course. My real name, I can't reveal." Jason opened his mouth to argue, but was shushed by a wave of the man's hand. "However, I am widely known by the name Abraxos."

Abraxos? _If that's the name he chose, then his real one must be a stinker. His parents must've hated him._

"Would you please not think such rude things? I can hear you, as you should know by now," Abraxos said, dryly. The first true signs of annoyance were playing on his features. His host wasn't surprised, though – Jason had a knack for annoying people. He considered it a gift.

"Then stop reading my mind."

Abraxos ignored him. "As I said, our time is running out. I must know – if you had the chance to change your past, would you?"

"Uh, excuse me?"

"I said it in plain English. Pay attention!" He was truly irritated now. "I asked, 'if you had the chance to change your past, would you?'"

"Change my past? As in…?"

"Go back, make different choices, and _change your fate_."

Jason thought about it for a moment. Would he? Would he go back to the first time he had lived on these confounded streets as a child? Would he become Robin again? Would he do the opposite of what he did, to do what he should? Would he want to make Bruce proud? Would he want to make Batman proud? _Yes, hell yes._

Though he meant to say no such thing aloud, his mouth opened and he said, "Of course I would."

Abraxos smiled. "I thought so, and He knew so."

"'He'?" Jason looked at him, plainly confused. Abraxos pointed upwards with his index finger. Jason didn't understand at first. All he saw was the roof of his apartment, and beyond that was just the sky, but… Oh. Oh. _Oh!_

"I'm not pulling your leg, Jason," Abraxos told him in earnest. "He has chosen to give you the chance of a lifetime – to go back and to change what happened."

"But why?" For some reason, he believed the man. He couldn't remember what it was like being dead, but it seemed that, in some locked-up memory, that what Abraxos spoke of, was true, that he had seen it with his own eyes. Had he? He almost wanted to think he was crazy, but something – or, he guessed, someone – told him he wasn't.

"For one, He doesn't like that Ra's al Ghul decided to 'play God', as they say. Raising one from the dead is horrible enough, in and of itself, but Ra's has a history of making war with the natural order of things."

"And secondly…?"

"You deserve it, Jason. You're still a good child, though that part of you is buried deep."

"Geez, thanks," Jason rolled his eyes. Abraxos kicked him in the foot.

"Do not roll your eyes," he ordered. "You don't want to be considered ungrateful, do you?"

"And if I am?"

"You can spend the rest of your life living in the Hell that you've made for yourself-"

"HEY!"

"Don't interrupt," Abraxos snapped. "Either you stay here, and be miserable, or you go back and _behave _and do as you should and, perhaps, live a long, wonderful life."

"What do you mean, 'perhaps'?"

"While your destiny is known already to Him, I cannot say what will become of you. There are different choices you can make in life, but they will ultimately wind down to what is already chosen as your fate. I need to know, Jason, quickly – will you or will you not?"

Jason was dumbstruck. "Don't I at least get a day to think it over?!"

"No – you decide now."

"Wait-"

"You have stalled too long already! Either you say 'yes' or you say 'no'. It is simple!"

"Maybe to you!"

"Then perhaps the chance will be given to someone else, someone who will use it!"

"But-"

"Our time is running out! I cannot stay here much longer, Jason. I have many other people to attend to. I need your decision."

"But-"

"If you don't decide by the time that clock strikes eight, your chance is gone!"

Jason glanced at the clock. 7:59. _Shit._ The second-hand was already halfway done. Rattled, he shouted the first thing that came to mind: "Alright, yes! Yes, I'll do it!"

Abraxos relaxed and gave him that warm smile again. "Wonderful."

Then everything went black.

Jason Todd opened his eyes and dropped the object in his hand. Right before him, dimly illuminated by the city lights, was the Batmobile, the front wheel, to no great surprise, missing. He looked down. The object he'd dropped was a rusty tool he'd been using that night… _this night_... Which meant…

He turned his head to find that his assumption was true. There, standing only a few feet away, was Batman.

* * *

**AN: Talk about a rapid-fire update! This thing's a monster! I worked on it forever. (Not really, but whatevs…)**

**First things first: No, this is not a religious story. No, I'm not apologizing – I'm not a religious person (C'mon, I listen to rock music!), but I do believe in God. My reasons for using religion in this story is that it worked perfectly with the plot line. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. I'm not holding a gun to your head. I will say, however, that any hate will not be appreciated. I respect all opinions, so I would like it if you'd respect mine as well.**

**On to sunnier topics, now. Okay, so the name 'Abraxos' **_**is**_** an angel name. I did my research like a good little author and found it. Pretty cool name, huh? Okay, I'm not going to annoy you with some giant AN, so I'll finish up.**

**Thanks for reading my story and I hope that you enjoyed this second chapter! I know the genre says 'Hurt/Comfort', but listening to the Black Keys and drinking way too much sweet tea (it's a southern thing, lol) got me super hyped. I, personally, like how it turned out. I hope you do, too. **

**Please review! The more reviews, the faster an update! (For real, this time!) Thanks, peeps! I love the wonderful things you have to say!**

**AN: Nope, still don't own Batman. **

**P.S. I hope I got Jason right!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Sweet dreams are made of this,

Who am I to disagree?"

-_Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) _by Emily Browning (Cover)*

"_Bruce._"

Seven seconds passed in tense silence, elongated by the clashing emotions warring in Jason's chest, before the young man-turned-boy was swallowed by blackness. Despite all the trials and tribulations he'd been through, there was nothing that could prepare him for this moment, that could stop the shock and disbelief of seeing Bat- no, _Bruce_ – like this: young(er) and not completely destroyed by the dark future that his path would eventually lead him to. He hadn't been completely consumed by his owner monster, the Batman, yet. He was still the man that had laughed at Jason's jokes, the man that had stayed home and watched movies with him when he was sick.

He was just _Bruce _and it was just too much.

Batman moved into action the instant he saw the boy sway and was only just in time to catch him as he fell. Concern washed over him as he looked down at the unconscious boy, eyes closed and mouth slightly open as if he'd whispered a secret. There was something familiar about this boy. _Maybe he's the son of a criminal I put away_, his logical mind suggested. But no, that wasn't it. It couldn't be it. He had seen the children of criminals before, but none had managed to pull at his heartstrings like this one. Something inside him broke at the mere sight of the boy, for reasons he couldn't explain.

Bruce quickly checked the boy's vitals and, finding everything to be normal, decided that his fainting spell was due to being discovered while trying to steal the tire and being overwhelmed.

_What now?_ The Bat asked himself. The boy was malnourished and probably dehydrated as well, with his body covered in bruises and cuts. Clearly, the boy had no home to be returned to. Maybe he should take him to Leslie's, let her check him out and make sure he's alright. Maybe he should take him straight to the Boy's Home.

_Or maybe, take him back to the cave_, a little voice said in the back of his mind. Bruce blinked, surprised at himself. Take him back to the cave? Yes, he felt unusually sorry for the boy, but that didn't mean he was crazy enough to risk taking some random street kid to the _Batcave_. He shook his head. No, it was to Leslie's to make sure he was fine, then straight to the Boy's Home. No if's, and's, or but's.

_He's more than some street kid, though_, the little voice prompted. _No normal kid would dare to even attempt to steal a tire off the Batmobile. _Then he must be dumb, Batman told himself. _Or very brave. Gotham could use another brave Robin…_

Bruce thought of Dick, who'd left to join the Titans as a full-time member. Being Batman hadn't been the same without him.

That didn't mean he could pick up this kid and give him the mantle, though. He was taking him to Leslie's, then the Boy's Home. That was that.

_He could pass as Dick, though. He's got black hair, a similar complexion. The major contrast is their eye color, but that would be covered up by the mask._

No. He wasn't going to-

_What harm could it do to at least see if the kid even possessed the moral qualities, or a willingness to learn? If he doesn't want to, then that's it. It's finished. But if he does, then a new Robin could be patrolling these streets, which means doubling the number of lives saved._

But-

_Besides, what chance does he have in a Boy's Home? Becoming another criminal that will have to be locked up? He's already got the thief-part down, who knows what he would do as an adult? Kill someone? Do drugs, sell drugs? As Robin, he'd be saved from that walk of life and Blackgate will be saved from having to house yet another prisoner._

* * *

Batman put the boy in the Batmobile, quickly fixed the tire, and then roared away. On the rooftop above, Abraxos was smirking to himself. He'd been sent back to make sure everything went well, at least for a little while, and to explain a few ground rules he'd forgotten to mention back at Jason's apartment. It wasn't as if he was missing his appointments if he was in the past, anyways. Too, he genuinely wondered what new road Jason would be led down. Would he be successful in his quest to remake himself, or would he fall short?

_He'd better not fall short after all I did for him while-ago,_ Abraxos thought to himself, turning away from the alley and stalking cross the rooftop. It was easy to read minds, but a whole different story when you were actually altering someone's thinking. Particularly, if that person was as stubborn as the Batman. He'd been successful, though, in convincing him to take in the wayward street rat. With his part done, the rest would be up to Jason and his family.

* * *

***Original song by The Eurythmics. Emily Browning's darker version seemed to fit this story better, though.**

**So sorry this is such a short chapter, but this has been extremely difficult to write. It's taken a long time to post as well, which I'm sorry for. I hope this chapter is up to par with your expectations, but at least there will be future ones, so I'll have the chance to amp up my game if I totally screwed up. Besides, now that the initial meeting is over, the rest should be super fun to write.**

**Thanks to all the follows, favorites, and reviews. They make me so happy I could do an Irish jig! Hope you liked this installment, and I promise that the next chapters won't be so short! It just seemed like this was the place to stop at, though, so until next time – adieu, and R&R.**

**(BTW, I took some inspiration from the Dark Knight movies, so… yep. Also, in case you haven't noticed, I'm using Jason's original storyline up till he takes the mantle of Robin for his past, but mainly using 'Under the Red Hood' and 'Red Hood & the Outlaws' (New52) for his personality. All other characters are pre-52. Except Abraxos, 'cuz I actually own him.)**


End file.
